/0/2142/coverbig.jpg?v=bba3c5c30d233c6ee9d1e431513d1fde)
Sofya was already at home when they reached the house. She met the mother with a cigarette in her teeth. She was somewhat ruffled, but, as usual, bold and assured of manner. Putting the wounded man on the sofa, she deftly unbound his head, giving orders and screwing up her eyes from the smoke of her cigarette.
"Ivan Danilovich!" she called out.